Chelsea Cain's Let's Go: Koala-walla-bing-bang

I met Daphne at the Goodwill Superstore. I wasn't looking for love. I was looking for girls' long-sleeved cotton shirts in a size 3T. But the moment I saw Daphne, I fell hard.

She was surrounded by thousands of stuffed animals, just another plush toy smashed onto the toy shelf of discarded childhood pals. But she was different. With her soft gray fur, fuzzy ears, brown eyes and large black nose, she was the sweetest stuffed koala I'd ever seen.

I wanted her.

"What about this one?" I asked my daughter as I tugged Daphne free of the mountain of stacked plush bodies.

I had promised my daughter that she could pick out one toy.

She put down the pink teddy bear she had already scooped up and took Daphne into her arms. "I love her," my daughter said, squeezing Daphne tight. I think Daphne winked at me.

I ushered my daughter and Daphne down the toy aisle, eager to get Daphne home. I was already picturing a lifetime of family snapshots, Daphne hooked in my daughter's elbow.

My daughter stopped.

"What?" I said.

"I want this," she said. She was a pointing to a red plastic My First Sony tape recorder. She pushed Daphne back on the shelf and picked up the tape recorder. "I want this," she said again. "Instead."

John M. Vincent/The OregonianA real koala.

Daphne looked at me, her brown plastic eyes glistening with panic.

I dropped to my knees and scooped Daphne into my arms. I held her like a baby. "Don't you love her?" I asked my daughter. "Don't you want her? Remember," I added, "you can only get one toy."

I scrambled for some sort of solution. My daughter had made her choice. Shouldn't I respect it? But how could I? She was merely a child. She didn't understand the repercussions. What were we supposed to do? Leave Daphne there? Next to the helplessly splayed, naked, crew-cut-sporting Barbie dolls? No one could love her like we could.

I cradled Daphne in my arms and trudged behind my daughter as she pranced ahead with her My First Sony. When we got to the cash register I tried again. "Are you sure you want to get that silly old tape recorder instead of this adorable, beautiful, totally sweet stuffed koala who desperately needs a home?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said.

"OK," I said. "Maybe you can get two toys."

We bought our pile of girls' 3T shirts, the tape recorder and our new stuffed koala. The clerk tried to bag her.

"We'll carry her," I said.

My daughter, having already forgotten that she had tried to abandon her new koala mere moments before, held her on her lap in the car. "What are you going to name her?" I asked.

"Daphne," my daughter said.

I beamed.

My daughter took care of Daphne that whole night, sitting with her, cooing in her ear. The plastic tape recorder sat silently on the floor. "Where's Daphne going to sleep?" I asked my daughter. "In my bed," she said.

But after my daughter was asleep I found Daphne downstairs. She'd been forgotten on the sofa. My husband and I sat down with her and watched some TV for a while. Daphne really seemed to enjoy herself. Then it was time to go upstairs.

"I think I'll take Daphne to bed," I said casually.

"Um, really?" my husband asked.

I told him that I was doing it for our daughter because I didn't want her to be upset in the morning when she realized that Daphne had spent the night by herself.

"That's weird," he said. "But OK."

I tucked Daphne in next to me and fell happily to sleep.

But our affair was to be short-lived. The next morning our daughter woke up and came into our room and climbed into bed with us. There, in the crook of my arm, was Daphne. My daughter shot me a look of absolute betrayal.

Daphne and I had been caught, so to speak, in flagrante.

Yes, I had cheated on my daughter with her own stuffed animal. Like a husband caught with lipstick on his collar, I sputtered for excuses. "You forgot her downstairs," I said.

My daughter's narrowed eyes went from me to Daphne and then back again. "You slept with Daphne?"

"We just cuddled," I said.

I looked to Daphne for support. She wasn't talking.

My daughter began to cry. "I wanted her in my bed," she wailed, tears spilling down her reddened little cheeks. "I told you. Last night. I told you."

What had I been thinking? I had let my attraction to Daphne get the better of me. "You forgot her downstairs," I said again. "I didn't want her to sleep by herself."

My wronged daughter continued to weep bitterly. There was no excuse. Daphne was a stuffed animal. I was a grown-up. I had to let Daphne go. I picked her up and handed her to my daughter. "I'm sorry," I said.

Though I will admit that, once in a while, I pat her on the head when my daughter is at day care.

Doll festival
March 3 is Hina Matsuri, the Japanese Doll Festival, when beautiful Hina dolls, traditionally purchased by parents or grandparents at the birth of a female child -- sometimes handed down from generation to generation -- are displayed in the home. Or, in this case, at the Japanese Garden.